


the simple cure to a rebellious attitude

by LilMysterios



Series: scholar bonding (of a sexual nature) [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Extremely Underage, Humiliation, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punishment, Rough Sex, Shota Sherlock, Size Kink, Teacher-Student Relationship, Top John, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 21:02:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3704739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilMysterios/pseuds/LilMysterios
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes is John's new private student, but apparently doesn't intend to submit to his authority...<br/>So John bends him over the desk and forces him to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the simple cure to a rebellious attitude

**Author's Note:**

> As always, everything is in the tags. Don't like, don't read!  
> Work beta'd by the lovely harleyquinnnapier. ^^

 

John hadn’t always wanted to become a preceptor.

He had had his doubts, like countless other professors, about his ability to guide young minds, about how his temper would have to remain gentle and firm at the same time if he wanted to both reassure and educate… plus, after teaching only classes of ten or more students for the better part of his career, John wasn’t so sure if the one-on-one teaching format would suit him.

That was why he had hesitated for so long before accepting Lord Holmes’ offer to be one of his sons’ private tutor… but the man was so charming, had cajoled him so insistently, that John had ended up saying yes, and he had settled at the castle immediately, ready to bolt at any moment if the job wasn’t convincing.

However, any desire to flee and return to his packed classes disappeared when he saw his new student for the first time.

Pale, skinny legs revealed by short trousers, the kind that every young boy wore at that tender age.

A slender, narrow torso fitted perfectly in a silky tailored waistcoat.

Tiny, delicate hands, fingers as thin as needles, clamped tightly against his smooth thighs.

A plump, full, utterly obscene mouth, slightly open in its curiosity.

Wide, bright eyes, so pale they seemed silvery, and filled with a devastating innocence that had John’s throat tightening.

Sherlock Holmes took a step towards him, watching him timidly from under his long, dark eyelashes, and John felt his mouth go dry.

“Are you my new preceptor?” the young boy asked sweetly.

John nodded, dumbfounded.

“You won’t last more than two weeks,” said Sherlock as suddenly he dropped all pretences of nervous shyness, his lips forming a mean smile.

He cast him a mean look as he turned heel and walked away, pert little ass bouncing in his trousers and John, still shocked by the sudden change in the boy’s demeanour, couldn’t think of anything to say.

 

* * *

 

 In the following days, Sherlock tried his best to discourage John and force him to leave.

Gratuitous provocations, cruel jokes and deliberate ill will during their lessons, tardiness, random projectiles and insubordination, Sherlock tried everything… and would probably have kept going if John hadn’t put his foot down.

“That is enough, Sherlock.”

Sherlock stopped his insolent monologue about social class and shut up, his mouth hanging open in surprise.

“Get up,” ordered John. “It’s time I give you what you deserve.”

The air in the room was suddenly charged with electricity, and even John could feel the tension. He watched as Sherlock slowly went around the edge of the desk and came to stand before him, hands behind his back and a supremely bored look on his pretty face.

John let the tension drawl out for a few seconds more.

“Bend over the desk.”

Sherlock’s eyes squinted in despise.

“Are you going to _spank_ me?” he laughed. “So original, professor Watson, really…”

But John, ignoring his gasp of surprise, gripped him by the nape and forced him to bend over the desk, lean chest flat against the wood and behind presented, slightly unbalanced by his legs that didn’t quite reach the floor in this position.

John pushed abruptly Sherlock’s shorts down, uncovering a delicious-looking, white little arse, and brushed a possessive hand over the round curve of a small, soft cheek…

“Really, professor Watson, I pegged you for having much more interesting methods up your sleeve… spanking won’t do with me, you can ask anyone.”

But John ignored him and, spreading Sherlock’s arse cheeks with a hand to reveal the tight, pink pucker of his virgin hole, he pushed the tip of his thumb inside.

“What—what are you doing?” asked Sherlock, his tone suddenly edged with a tinge of nervousness.

John chuckled.

“Oh so I’m not unoriginal anymore, boy? Has nobody played with your hole before? That is such a _shame_.”

The hole clenched and tightened around John’s knuckles as he pumped it in and out, and he delighted in hearing Sherlock’s high whine when he put in another.

“You c-can’t,” Sherlock stuttered. “You can’t just— _touch_ me...”

“Oh I’ll do a lot more than that,” John said with a smirk. “You just said the last impertinence of your life, boy.”

With that and not waiting a second more, John opened his fly, took out his already-hard, leaking cock out, and forced himself inside Sherlock.

The young boy let out a cry of pain as the huge member breached his entrance, and John snickered when Sherlock clenched helplessly around his cock. He was obviously a virgin and the passage was still tight, but John knew that it would end up opening up for him and welcoming him in… plus, it had to hurt if he wanted the little prick to remember his lesson.

So John kept pushing in, ignoring Sherlock’s complaints, and didn’t even wait when he bottomed out before he started fucking into the boy earnest, dragging broken cries at every thrust of his pelvis and breathing hotly in Sherlock’s hair.

“Do you let all your professors fuck you like that, little Holmes?” he whispered hotly against his ear. “Do you present your tight little arse to them as soon as they come in, knees spread like a whore? Do you beg them to fuck you deep and hard, to make you scream so much you forget your multiplication tables?”

John thrust sharply and he must have hit Sherlock’s prostate, for the boy howled and squirmed in John’s big hands, trying to get away from him… John simply placed a big hand between his shoulder blades and pushed him flat on the desk, thrusting harder and faster, relishing the delicious friction as his cock raped forcefully the tight passage.

“That’s all you wanted, am I right?” he hissed. “You act like a rebellious little shit but really the only thing that can make you happy is a big, hard cock shoved deep inside your little hole…”

John slipped a hand under Sherlock’s crisp white shirt, pinching a peaked nipple, and the boy whined, a high, exquisite sound that went straight to John’s groin.

“What would your parents say if they saw you right now, Sherlock? Bent over your professor’s desk, with your little boy’s pants around your ankles and a huge adult cock stuffed so deep in your virgin arse?”

He lowered his voice to a hot whisper, murmuring against Sherlock’s glossy curls.

“Do you think they would stay to watch the show? Do you think they’d close the door behind them, watch you getting your little arse pounded and _liking it_? Maybe they’d even thank me for finally shutting you up, don’t you think? Because you’ve been such a bad boy, Sherlock. Such a _bad boy_.”

“Y—yes, I— _aaah_ , I’m sorry,” sobbed Sherlock, his words cut by gasps whenever John’s cock hit his prostate. “I’ll be good, I—uuhh, I promise, I _swear_ …”

“Is that true?” doubted John. “Do you really want to be a good boy? Are you even capable of being good?”

“I—I swear, I can ch—change” stuttered Sherlock, “I can— _aah_ , I can be a good boy, I can be good! Just—uh, uh, just… let me…”

“That I let you what? That I let you come? You think you’ve been good enough?”

“N-No, I… ah, uh, I just need… _please_ , I’m begging you!” Sherlock sobbed.

John sneaked an arm around the boy’s waist and easily lifted him up, pressing him against his chest and impaling him even further of John’s cock – Sherlock let out a choked breath.

“If I let you come…” murmured John with a sweet voice, still fucking up into Sherlock’s hole.

“Yes, yes—ahaaa, yes, _please_ ,” begged Sherlock, bouncing up and down on John’s cock like a puppet without its strings.

“If I let you come,” said John, “will you be a good boy for me? Will you be quiet and diligent? Will you do your homework and listen in class?”

“Yes, yes, I swear!” chanted Sherlock, nodding emphatically as his black glossy curls bounced around his head like a dark, sinful halo.

“Will you show me respect and obedience in all things?”

“ _In all things_ ,” moaned Sherlock, going mad from the pain and the frustration. “Please, _Sir_ …”

John chuckled, low and throaty, and put a hand around Sherlock, squeezing lightly his small, neglected cock.

“That’s a good boy. You can come… _now_.”

Sherlock came with an inarticulate cry, spilling himself all over John’s fingers and desk while John kept fucking him trough his orgasm. He held Sherlock tight against his chest as the boy rode his orgasm, and the clenching and unclenching of the boy’s hole around his cock finally pushed him over the edge. John pulled out, easing Sherlock back on the desk, and came all over the boy’s arse and lower back, painting the pale, smooth flesh with thick ropes of his come… Sherlock moaned, soft and kitten-weak, his hole twitching helplessly around its sudden emptiness.

John then wiped his cock with a handkerchief, tucked himself back in his slacks, and readjusted himself. In front of him, Sherlock feebly stood up on shaking legs and faced him, his trousers still at his knees and his shirt almost ripped open, eyes wet and huge and chest heaving to regain his breathing.

“This has been most productive, Mr Holmes,” said John, his voice polite and seemingly not at all affected by the fact he had just fucked his twelve year old student to exhaustion. “I do hope you’ll remember today’s lesson.”

And with that, he calmly left the room.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this work is first part of a series, as you could all see, and I've already written the second part of it, but if you have any ideas of what could happen to pretty little Sherlock next, I would be delighted to hear them, share some perspectives... I would really love that.
> 
> Also, don't be shy if you saw any mistake (especially in the British language which I probably haven't mastered like, at all, in addition to the fact that English isn't my first language) or if you feel like a tag or warning should be added, just tell me!
> 
> And don't forget: comments? Are unicorns. And rainbows. And just make my DAY like kittens in mittens and frozen Snickers bars. ^^


End file.
